Clarity of Purpose
by Lear's Daughter
Summary: How HRG comes to see Claire as his daughter. Pre-series.


Disclaimer: I own nothing to do with Heroes.

Noah tells his wife that he has named the baby Claire because of the color of her hair.

Sandra stares at the small 18 month old, her features soft and loving and a tear trembling at the edge of one long eyelash. They have not talked about having a child, but he can tell from her expression that she has been secretly longing for one, perhaps for a long time. "It's a beautiful name," she whispers, tracing her finger down the side of the baby's perfect, smooth face.

He feels a distant corner of his heart reach toward the child, but he clamps down firmly on the emotion. She is just another assignment. More long-term than he is used to, yes, but still an assignment. His duty is clear. And that is why he has named her Claire. To remind himself of what his resolution must be.

* * *

At first it is difficult assimilating a baby into his life. Sandra thinks it's strange if he doesn't try to come home early to play with the baby. Claire doesn't cry much, but when she does she bawls, reaching for a mother who managed to burn herself and her entire house down. She doesn't usually want to be held by Sandra, though—she prefers Noah. When he holds Claire he keeps her at a distance, never cuddling her close. He never looks into her eyes, and for a couple of years it's almost like she's not a person, like she's just a pet.

Lyle comes along the natural way when they've had Claire for two years. It's painful for Noah because he wants to love his son, but there's a part of him that's become used to holding back, and another part that tells him that Sandra will become suspicious if he is more loving, more tactile towards their son than their daughter. She'll accuse him of favoring the natural-born child over the adoptee, and it will be true, except that she'll never know how much he wishes he could love Claire.

* * *

Sometimes Claude asks after her. Only he never says, "How is Claire?" He always says, "How is your _project_ going?" He says "project" like he might say a foul word. Not like a loyal employee of the company should say it.

* * *

When Claire is five she breaks her arm after trying to climb a tree. She doesn't cry at first, just stares at the arm that's bent the wrong way, her eyes huge and alarmed. He watches from the porch, tries not to care. _When they take her, a broken arm will be the least of her worries_, he tells himself. It will be best for her if she grows up hard, if she knows something of pain already.

So when she turns her eyes on him, her lower lip trembling, he forces himself not to run to her. Instead he says, coldly, "Come on, Claire. I'll take you to the hospital." She sits through the setting of the bone stoically, and afterwards the doctor says to him, "You must be very proud of your little girl." It's the first time he's ever thought of her as his little girl, and the thought sends physical pains spiking through his heart.

* * *

When Claire is seven she wins a spelling bee. It's not a big deal, or at least it shouldn't be, except that when she brings home the blue ribbon she beams at him, a gap-toothed smile because she's missing one of her front teeth, her blue eyes alight. He realizes then that, despite what he might tell himself, Claire is really not a very happy child. She doesn't have a lot of friends, but that's okay because the friends she does have, especially a boy named Zach, are really great. She doesn't have a pet, but that's okay because her school has a pet lizard she can play with after class.

She doesn't have a father, though, and that's really not okay. Because she _wants _a father. He can see it whenever she looks at him. Her look isn't condemning, or disappointed. It's just filled with an intense longing. He looks at the ribbon and he puts his hand on her arm, the corner of his lip quirking up in what he supposes is a poor indication of approval, and somehow her smile becomes even brighter.

* * *

When Claire is ten Sandra's drinking becomes a real problem. He's been keeping an eye on it for years, mildly concerned, but knowing what he does for his job everyday he can't find it in himself to call her on it. It would be too hypocritical. He doesn't know why she does it. Because she can sense the lies that exist between them, always unspoken, beneath the surface? Because she sees the way he keeps his distance from their children—more from Lyle than Claire now, for some reason even he can't understand?

Whatever the reason, he can't turn a blind eye any longer when he comes home from work one night to find her passed out on the couch, the entire house filled with smoke because she began to bake brownies and forgot about them. If it were just the two of them they would work it through together. They have two children, though, who don't understand what's happening, who need to feel safe. He arranges for her to go to a private clinic, where he can visit her often.

At first he's amazed how smoothly everything goes. He thinks that with his wife absent—visiting family, he tells the kids—he should feel unprepared, needy, disorganized. He doesn't, though. It's almost like there's a ghost in the house, some echo of his wife who does the dishes, sets the coffee machine so that there'll be coffee in the morning, helps Lyle with his homework, and makes sure that Claire goes to bed on time instead of staying up late reading in her room.

Except there isn't a ghost, he realizes. There's just him, and his children, and it's Claire who does the dishes, Claire who sets the coffee machine, Claire who helps Lyle with homework she only learned to do a couple years ago herself, and there isn't anyone making sure that Claire goes to bed on time, which is why she looks so tired lately.

He pulls her aside the day after he realizes what she's been doing. Lyle is upstairs in his room doing homework, so it is just the two of them sitting at the empty dining table.

"Why have you been doing all this, Claire?" he asks clinically, as if he is interrogating a subject.

She bites her lip, looks down. He catches a glimpse of her profile and thinks: _She's going to be stunning_. A protective feeling wells up in him.

"Because you need the help, and mom's not here to do it right now," she says shyly. "I love you, dad."

He stares at her, this girl-child, who is not his daughter, not related to him in any way, and yet who has his sense of duty. He wonders what it says about him, that his daughter has been taking care of him. He wonders what it says about him, that she understands loyalty to family—love—better than he does. If there is anyone in this family who does not belong, it isn't her. It's him.

The ice that has encased his heart for so long, that has been melting for so long, cracks and drops away. She is ten years old, and she has such potential, and he loves her. He has probably loved her since the day he brought her home. He thanks God—the same God he doesn't really believe in—that at least he has come to his senses now. In spite of all the terrible things he's done, it would have been the worst possible sin if he had never come to realize what an amazing daughter he has.

He comes out of his chair and kneels before her, like a penitent. He takes her small hand between both of his and for the first time he allows himself to simply be her father.

"Why don't we take care of each other from now on, Claire bear?" he says. It is the first and only pet name he will ever have for her.

She bites her lips again and he is startled to see tears in her eyes. Moments later she flings herself out of her chair and into his arms, and it is the first tight embrace they have ever shared, and it is wonderful, and he promises himself that he will never miss out on the opportunity to hold his little girl again.

Lyle comes down a little later, when Noah and Claire are making waffles for dinner, and he can tell from the boy's stance that he realizes that something has changed. Lyle can't tell what it is, though, and instead watches them warily, an outsider, and ultimately goes to the living room to watch TV.

Sandra comes home a while later, mostly recovered. He keeps an eye on her for a relapse, but she never does. He wonders whether she's able to stay sober because she is relieved by the changed dynamic between him and their daughter, or because of her new hobby/obsession, a puppy she calls Mr. Muggles.

* * *

When Claire is thirteen she has her first boyfriend. His name is Mike and he's handsome for a thirteen year old and he's got a shifty look to him that Noah doesn't like. She has her first kiss on the front porch after Mike walks her home from school. Noah catches them. He says nothing to Mike, but tells Claire—only half-joking—that she isn't allowed to date until she is 21, says that she isn't adult enough to be kissing boys. She says, "I hate you!" and runs to her room.

He comes upstairs several hours later carrying a bear from Istanbul. She doesn't wait for his apology, just stares at him with her eyes brimming with tears and says, "I'm so sorry, dad. I don't hate you, I promise!"

He gathers her up in his arms and says, "I know, Claire bear. It's okay. I love you." He's said the words—"I love you"—many times now, but every time they feel precious, like he knows that he might never get a chance to say them again.

The bear goes on a small but growing pile by her bed.

* * *

When Claire is fourteen Lyle begins to intentionally break things in the house in a cry for attention. Noah tries to be understanding, but mostly he is just annoyed. Claire has never been a troublemaker, even in the many years when he neglected her. Why can't Lyle be precocious like Claire? Doesn't he know that his sister could be taken away at any time to be dissected? Of course he doesn't know. Maybe if he did he wouldn't be such a pest.

It all comes to a head one day.

"Just stop, Lyle," Noah orders after the boy has thrown a glass onto the ground, shattering it. Claire sighs heavily but goes to the closet to get a dustpan. "Why do you have to do things like that? Your sister never acts out like this."

Lyle glowers. "Yeah, Claire's perfect. She's so perfect, it's not even normal! Look at her. She doesn't even look like us. You probably just picked her up off the side of the road where her _real_ family abandoned her because she's really such a freak!"

Lyle doesn't know how close to the truth his words are. He also probably doesn't realize that Claire has come back by now, has heard every word he's saying. Despite the attack on his sister, he's not really trying to hurt her—he's trying to hurt Noah by hurting Claire, which is actually a very effective tactic.

Lyle storms off and Claire stares after him, shaken. Maybe it's not the best timing, but Noah chooses that day to tell her, very carefully, that she is adopted. She takes it better than he expected, although he secretly thinks that she chooses the horn rimmed glasses as punishment for keeping her adoption secret for so many years. For the first time in his life he actually looks creepy rather than bland, which, he finds, does make him more effective when he's at work.

Later that day he goes up to talk to Lyle, who has sequestered himself in his room, and is surprised to find that Claire is already there. He eavesdrops as Claire explains, her voice mostly steady except for the occasional hitches in her breath, that she was adopted, and can Lyle please not make jokes about it?

Lyle doesn't respond verbally, but Noah notices that, though he continues to act out for a few more months before wearing himself out, he never makes another crack about Claire not belonging.

* * *

When Claire is fifteen, the company asks about her for the first time.

"Has she exhibited any abilities?"

He shakes his head. "No. Claire is completely normal."

"Well. Keep a close eye on her. If she has a gift, it might manifest soon."

Noah nods, his face perfectly bland. A good, loyal worker.

* * *

When Claire is sixteen, a cut on her hand heals abnormally quickly, and he knows that this is his proof that she is special. But then, he has always known that she is.


End file.
